


Because It's Naughty

by hotchoco195



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse
Genre: Body Swap, F/M, trickery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alternate version of Because It's Wrong. Buffy is trapped in Faith's body and looking for help, when a chance meeting with Spike provides new opportunities...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because It's Naughty

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Because It's Wrong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/567536) by [hotchoco195](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195). 



> Originally this is the version I wanted to write, but somehow the first time round it got hijacked. So here is Buffy in all her devious glory.

Buffy was no stranger to hiding from the police. When Snyder tried to pin Kendra’s death on her, she’d stuck to the sewers and the bad parts of town, using Slayer senses to avoid trouble before it found her. And now it was the same nightmare, but worse – chased by both cops and Council, trapped in the (admittedly banging) body of her worst enemy, and with no way of getting to her mother without ending up in chains again. She felt like she’d never wanted anything as much as she wanted to be at Giles’ right now, with her Watcher in one corner and Willow on the computer, even Xander’s unhelpful suggestions. They’d find a way to switch her back.

But unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen tonight. It was late, and Giles would be asleep by now. Getting woken up at 3am by the rogue Slayer trying to kill him wasn’t going to put him in a listening mood. Buffy would have to wait until dawn - at least - before she could explain the whole mess, and it left her at a loose end. She slunk along one of the many alleys in that industrial part of Sunny D where all this had begun. She just needed a place to hide for a few hours, and it had been deserted enough the night Faith made that one bad call. Buffy used to blame herself for Faith’s mess – if only she’d shown her how things could be, if only she’d tried to protect her from herself – but that was a long time ago. Now she knows that the only person who could have helped Faith, was Faith. She’s not worthy of her duty if she’s not willing to play by the rules. (The hypocrisy of this, of course, was lost on the temporarily-brunette Slayer). Buffy rounded a corner carefully and froze as her spine got that warning tingle. Coming straight towards her was the only thing that could make this night worse – Spike.

He was smoking, as always, his coat swinging in time with that trademark swagger. The bad boy act was still as hot as ever, even if it was all he had going for him these days, and she almost felt sorry for him. He was getting closer, humming something quietly between drags of his cigarette. Telling herself she couldn’t skulk in the shadows and wait for him to trip over her, she stepped out from behind a wall of boxes and waited.

Spike paused mid-breath, which was fine, since he didn’t need his lungs anyway. Over the rich smell of his cheap smokes, the hazy stench of beer still floating around him, that comforting old leather and blood scent of his duster – there was something else. Human, definitely. Female, probably. And Slayer, unfortunately.

“Right then. You didn’t get your fill of kicking old Spike around at the club? Had to follow me home too?”

But the girl moving out of the alley towards him wasn’t Buffy – she might have smelt like her, but the blonde would never have been caught in an outfit like that. Everything was tight and the pants at least were leather. She filled them out well, with strong athletic limbs and a nice curvy little torso. Her dark brown curls were tussled and her makeup was smudged, but she was still just his kind of bird. Only problem was that suspicious smell that promised danger and bruises, of the unwelcome variety.

 He squashed his cigarette and sauntered over, sniffing discreetly as he regarded her.  “Who are you then, love, and why haven’t we met yet?”

Buffy paused for about two seconds, letting her eyes graze Spike from tip to toe as she considered her answer. _He probably won’t believe me, and even if he does he’ll just laugh his ass off or insult me. His crypt would be the perfect place to hide, but I’d have to pay him. And put up with his smartass jokes. Or maybe he’ll just refuse so the Council can catch me._

“Maybe we have, and you just forgot.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t forget a face like that.” Spike leered, stepping closer.

Buffy was still trying to weigh up her options. Tell Spike, and risk that it wouldn’t do her any good anyway. Ignore him and find somewhere else to wait out the night. Or...

The way he was looking at her, like a starving man looks at a full roast: there was potential in that. He was so gorgeous with those gaunt cheeks and the slim but strong shoulders. Sure, mass murderer who hated her and was only hanging around until he found a way to get off the leash, but she could never repress all the memories from the night of their magic-induced engagement. Sometimes when they called the bleached blond over to fight Monster of the Week, she’d watch the gleeful smile as he wrestled with demons and vamps. She’d notice the flare of his jacket as he spun, and it didn’t matter that he stole it from the body of a Slayer (or that it vaguely reminded her of Angelus in an unpleasantly good way). Spike was beautiful, exactly the kind of man Drusilla would pick to keep pretty for eternity, with all that viciousness of his demon to make him impulsive, passionate, proud. He was completely wrong for her, and she still mostly hated him, but there was something under it all she couldn’t fully brush aside. The vampire curled his lip as he regarded her again, and she knew what it was – lust, pure carnal lust for another body that had nothing to do with emotions and everything to do with _feeling_.

And as she ran her Faith hands over her Faith hips, a new plan formed.

“You say that to all the pretty girls?”

“Only the ones that could stake me where I stand. You must be Faith.”

“You’ve heard of me? Word sure gets around in this town.”

“Oh I’ve heard plenty about you. Heard you got it in for Summers something fierce. They said you were crazy, but it all sounds perfectly sane to me.”

“I’m sure. So give me a reason not to lose my cool and stake you, if I’m so deranged.”

Spike was standing much closer to her now, and she realised they’d both been inching towards each other for a while, but she’d been too busy – having fun? Was that possible? She was impersonating the psycho who continually finds new ways to ruin her life, in an attempt to win over a toothless vampire nemesis, and that was fun? What an absolutely insane night.

“Can think of a few reasons pet. Want me to show you? If you’re not too busy tracking down Buffy.”

“No, I’ve got time. While til morning yet. I need some entertainment.”

“I’ll give you all the entertainment you can handle.” Spike almost purred, a wicked smirk matching the smile in his very blue eyes.

The vampire closed the last foot between them with preternatural speed, one hand wrapped in her hair as the other grabbed her neck and dragged her face upwards. He wasn’t rough enough to really hurt her, always conscious of the chip, but it was still so violent. It was one thing she couldn’t get from Angel or Parker or Riley. Spike didn’t treat her like she was precious and delicate – she was a Slayer and he was a vampire and they didn’t need soft and sweet. He threw her back against the alley wall, using his arms to soften the impact just enough. And then he was kissing her, those familiar and once-disturbing kisses that were only more amazing given the perversity of the whole situation. Buffy curled a leg up around Spike’s hip as he tried to devour as much of her as possible, his hands pressing into her strange new full breasts and her tight waist. The feel of Faith’s skanky leather pants against her skin was incredibly hot, the material lending even more friction to every movement. When Spike ran a hand up her thigh, when he pressed his hips against hers harder, she felt it from knees to crotch as everything went taut against her. She had her arms locked around his neck and (for once) didn’t need to use the wall for balance as she lifted her other leg up. Clinging to Spike she was able to grind herself against him fully, her breasts squashed against his flat, stony-solid chest and her thighs clenched on the sharp points of his hips. Their tongues were never still, dancing around each other gracefully with that sense of urgency. They couldn’t get far enough into each other, couldn’t feel enough skin over their own, and with a growl Spike pulled away.

“Much as I hate to interrupt love, but unless you wanna get naked in a dingy corner with the vagrants listening, I think it’s time to take this somewhere else.”

Buffy pushed aside any tiny lingering doubts about moral consequences and ran a hand over Spike’s cotton-clad chest.

“You got somewhere nearby?”

*****

The trip to Spike’s place took much longer than either of them wanted. Buffy was still wearing a wanted body after all, so they’d stuck to back lanes and cut across parks and cemeteries. Buffy itched to touch Spike, to run her hands all over the cold figure made of flashes of black and white, but she controlled it by telling herself they had to be inconspicuous. So when Spike opened the door to his crypt she waited less than half a second to grab him, shoving him up against the wall and sliding both hands under his shirt. Taken by surprise at first, Spike recovered quickly and kissed her. He ran his lips along her neck, twisting his hands in her dark curls so she couldn’t move her head. He nipped her shoulder so lightly she barely felt it, the brush on her skin a tickle down her spine. She ripped his shirt in half and pushed all his layers down his arms roughly, jerking them down over his wrists.

Forced to release her, Spike took the opportunity to move away from the wall. He ducked behind the Slayer and wrapped his arms around her torso. One hand circled low over her hips, across and back again, while the other travelled upwards to those firm, overflowing breasts and dragged her singlet up with it. The air of the crypt was cold over her exposed stomach, Spike’s bare chest cool against her back. With Angel and Riley the height difference had been a bit of an issue, but Spike was short enough that her borrowed Faith body fit well. She twisted her head back and found his lips immediately, letting him crush her to him possessively as their tongues memorised each other. He was everywhere, his hands running over her thighs or teasing a nipple but always keeping her within the cradle of his arms. He attacked her belt, the buckle flying open followed by her buttons, and then he was dragging the leather down her thighs. She stepped out of Faith’s skanky pants and faced him again, dragging her nails down his chest as he kissed every ounce of oxygen out of her. The vampire grabbed her by the thighs and lifted, walking over until he could sit her on the edge of the cold, hard sarcophagus. His mouth strayed down across her chest, sucking hard on first one nipple and then the other until she was fidgeting, trying to push him lower and pull him closer at the same time. Spike grinned and flicked his jeans open easily, hands clutching her bare ass as he slid into her like a hot knife through butter.

“ _God_ Slayer. You’re hot as Hell.”

“You’d know.” She smirked, shifting her hips slightly when he still didn’t move.

Spike felt like he was drowning in a bonfire. Those preternatural Slayer muscles were deliciously tight around him and so warm, like sinking into a hot bath. He hadn’t fucked a human in forever, but he knew they’d never been as good as this. The brunette kicked her heels against his ass impatiently, and he started to thrust. He knew he’d never last with that unbelievable cunt, vampiric stamina or not, so he kept his moves hard and fast as his hands brushed the Slayer’s sides. He danced over her breasts, her flat stomach with all that wonderful muscle underneath, her round full thighs. The girl laid back against the hard stone, regardless of the way it scratched her as they rocked. Her big pouting lips were thrown open in an ‘o’ as she moaned, her hands locked around his hips in a hold that would bruise for at least a day or two. _Fucking sexy bitch_.

Buffy’s brains – or were they Faith’s? She was a little hazy on the specifics of the body swap – were being jostled around in her skull, dark curls swinging across her face. Her back was being rubbed raw by the flat stone beneath her, but all she could think was _More, harder, deeper, more!_ Spike was so solid inside her, so insistent. She refused to draw comparisons with her first love, because that was nothing like this. Her disastrous night with Angel had been all about love – and this was just incredible, unforgettably hot sex. It felt ridiculously right and wrong at the same time. She could feel herself getting close and sat up, pushing Spike backwards. He fell hard with her still clamped around him, and she didn’t wait for him to catch his nonexistent breath, just pumping herself up and down his shaft harder than she had with anyone, ever. She was making way embarrassing noises and she didn’t give a shit, just wanting to feel every little twinge of pleasure he could give her.

Spike was thrown by the whole flat-on-his-back thing at first, but recovered quickly. After all, it wasn’t like he could get winded. He growled as the Slayer rode him into the floor, sinking his fingers into her ass and driving up to meet her bucks.

“God yes, fuck me Spike!”

He froze, even though she didn’t pause. “You know my name?”

She slowed when his words hit her. “Sure. B told me about you and Drusilla and Angelus. Sounds like a boatload of fun.”

“Had its moments.” He shrugged.

“Told me about Soulboy and your crazy sire too. Bet you wanted to fuck Blondey - little tit for tat?”

“Pollyanna the Vampire Layer? She’s not really my style. But Angelus did say a few things about Slayers that made me infinitely curious.”

His wicked grin as she slowly sank down his member again was like static electricity. She wanted to completely entwine herself around him, to be wound together until it was impossible to tell who was who. She needed him to split her apart, break her open and suck out everything until she was dust. Buffy rolled them so he was on top again, her Faith legs wrapping around his waist.

“I can imagine. Wanna test how unbreakable I am?”

Spike braced himself on her hips, pressing her into the concrete as he started sawing in and out of her recklessly. Her arms were around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers as small whimpers escaped her, the pain of his thrusts matched by the jolts of goodness every time he slammed into her. Spike was swearing in a constant mutter, skin slapping against the Slayer’s as he slipped one hand down her hips and wormed his thumb between them. He pressed on her clit hard, once, and she shattered into a twitching, shrieking mess beneath him. The second he felt her passage stiffen and then ripple around him, he was coming in great spurts, eyes clenched shut against the growl forcing its way up his throat. They shook together for what seemed like an eternity, until finally she went slack and he pulled himself out of her, falling to the floor in a heap.

Buffy was still on fire, but the slow tingly kind, not the urgent burn she’d had before. _I just let the neighbourhood undead nuisance...do what? Melt all my brains into a big swirly mush? Who cares who he is!_ But as she calmed down, and started to be aware that the floor was both cold and hard and goddamn uncomfortable, it seemed to matter a bit more that Spike was lying beside her looking unconscious. _It’s fine, Buffy. He never has to know. You’re safe – you’re Faith. Wow, strange thought._ That was interrupted by Spike reawakening enough to roll her onto her stomach.

“Hmm, looks like we did some damage after all.” He mused, gingerly touching the rough scrapes that covered her from shoulders to thighs. He leant in and licked a long trail up her spine, making her shudder. He did it again and again, cleaning her back in strips. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly at the languorous feel of his tongue, until once again the blissful haze wore off and she realised she was still stuck in Faith’s body, still on the run, and currently letting a mortal enemy lick her cuts in a totally gross way. _Time to do the Faith thing_.

“Well it’s been great, but I gotta go. Places to go, annoying blondes and Scoobies to kill.”

Spike raised a brow as she jumped up and started wrestling herself back into the leather pants, the taste of Slayer blood tart on his tongue.

“Suit yourself love. Give them a few good kicks for me.”

She nodded and strode out of the crypt, leaving him to smile up at the bare stone ceiling like a naughty child.

*****

Buffy drifted through the cemetery without really seeing it. It was good to be back in her own self. She was never taking her body for granted again. It was an uneventful patrol, everybody lying low – or dead. She was just about to give up for the night and head back to the Bronze when a strikingly blonde head appeared a few rows away.

“Slayer.”

She sighed. “Spike. And here I was having such a lovely, not at all irritating evening.”

He just smirked at her, winding his way closer through the headstones. “Reminiscing were we?”

She frowned, a little warning of possible imminent badness tingling in the back of her mind. “Why do you care?”

He smiled like the cat that got the canary and stepped even closer, until he was only an arm’s length away.

“Well, it’s just I heard the most interesting little tidbit about you tonight, pet.”

Buffy’s rising panic shot up to full capacity as Spike leered at her. “Great. Take your fascinating demon gossip elsewhere Spike, I’m so not in the mood.”

She went to move past him, but he grabbed her arm and leant down to mutter in her ear. “Now now, is that any way to treat a perfectly good fuck?”

She wrenched her arm out of his grip, pale and shaken. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He chuckled. “Oh, the Slayer was a naughty girl! Did you tell your mates about our little shag? Did you tell them how you moa-”

Buffy had her stake against his chest in a flash, but he grabbed her wrist. “Just remember Slayer, I’ve seen into that pretty blonde head of yours now. Thought you could trick old Spike but it backfired.”

“I swear to GOD Spike, you tell anyone and I will dust you for good.”

“See, that’s your problem Summers. You’re all talk. Come see me again next time you’re ready for some action.”

He shoved her arm away and turned, strolling in the direction of his crypt with a jaunty whistle. Buffy contemplated throwing her stake for a second, but decided having to explain why she finally offed Captain Peroxide was more trouble than she needed. _Even though there’s no way he’ll keep it to himself. Fuck, how could I have been so stupid?_ She marched back to her house angrily, stubbornly ignoring the little voice in her head pointing out it had still been completely worth it.


End file.
